Strangers
by Darkness's Angel
Summary: (Completed) Their marriage is not what it once was. He is confused, while she is lost.
1. Part I :: Torn Pieces

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Strangers

Summary: Their marriage is not what it once was. He is confused, while she is lost.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

Part I :: Torn Pieces

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It was always a blonde or a brunette, but never a redhead. Sometimes he would muse over the reasons for this, and every time he did, he would try and refrain from acknowledging the real reason. It was, for the same reason, that the said blondes and brunettes never had brown eyes, always shades of green, hazel, or blue even.

He knew it was technically wrong, and such a thing to cause gossip. He knew that he should be home, staying with his wife, being with his children, living the happy life that not so long ago they had fought so hard for.

But he couldn't. He had closed himself off, so much, that he knew it was too late to change anything, too late to get them back, get _her_ back. Instead, he drowned his sorrows and mistakes in the company of another every other night, not coming home until the fine hours of the morning.

He made sure that no one ever got wind of what exactly was going on with the Malfoy family, but it appeared almost seemingly impossible, yet he managed. Though, the one person he wished he could have kept his misconceptions from, already knew.

Sometimes, whenever he looked back on the memory of her moving out of their adjoining room, into another, in the opposite wing of the house, it almost seemed to him that she was giving her blessing to continue with his rowdy behavior, which, of course, he did.

The thing that must have unnerved him most of all, was that she appeared to not even care. She carried on her days with their children. Spending her time reading to them, or teaching their five-year-old daughter how to ride a broom, or even helping their fifteen-year-old son finally beat his Uncle Ron in Wizarding Chess, but she never acknowledged, let alone yelled at him for his behavior.

All she ever did was leave their room.

The two of them seemed more and more like strangers as time went on. They barely spoke, and put on a large façade for everyone. A mirage that perceived everything was indeed alright with the Malfoy's. That was the only time the two were ever physically touching each other.

She would have her arm linked through his, a dazzling, but false smile planted on her face. He would smirk slightly, pulling her a little bit closer, giving them all the illusion that they were happy. Other than that, she never let him touch her, and he never tried to, half the time not knowing why.

It almost didn't seem real to him, this on-going, faulty, double life of his. He knew deep down that he had fallen short. While he might have been one of the most intelligent wizards, he had failed at everyday life. Being disappointing as both a husband and father. He only took comfort in the fact that his daughter did not quite hate him as much as his son, in fact he was relieved to know that she didn't hate him at all, but he knew that eventually, one day she would.

She was a very pretty little thing. Maria Kylee Malfoy was very much the spitting image of her mother. Long, slightly wavy, dark red hair with smooth, light skin. In fact, the only thing she had inherited, physically, from her father, was her steely gray eyes. There was a very big difference between that of his eyes, and his daughter's. Maria was always smiling, and her eyes were always lit up, emotion flickering in their depths. His, on the other hand, were almost always cold, and hard, only in rare moments did they ever show a trace of emotion, one of these insistences being when his wife moved to the other side of the house.

His son, Jameson Draconis Malfoy, was the replica of his father, with sleek, platinum blonde hair, and handsome good looks, but he did not have his father's gray eyes, instead, he had his mother's warm, bright brown ones, something that James was grateful for, for he hated, actually resented the fact that he looked like his father, which pained Draco to say the least, but he never did voice his opinion to the boy. He figured there was no use to argue with him about something like that.

Draco did not have the best relationship with his son. They barely spoke. The main reason for this, was because James knew about his father's various "activities". He was a very smart boy, and did not like it at all.

Draco sighed, banishing these ever lingering thoughts, and tried to get back to doing some work. Starting to focus on the papers in front of him, Draco didn't even notice his reading glasses were tipped downwards, almost falling off his nose, and his eyes were blank, and unmoving.

At the sound of the door to his study opening, he glanced up, and found himself staring at his son.

James walked into the room, and almost immediately, Draco knew the boy's behavior was different. He had a serious look upon his face, and his eyes were not warm and caring, but hard and emotionless.

A trait he doubtlessly picked up from me, Draco mused.

The boy sat himself across from his father, and just stared at him, as if waiting for something.

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Author's Note - I decided to try something a bit new. Hope you all enjoyed the first part. There are three parts in all. Next chapter will be up within a week, depending on the response it gets. Please review, and let me know your thoughts.


	2. Part II :: Shattered Perfection

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Strangers

Summary: Their marriage is not what it once was. He is confused, while she is lost.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

Part II :: Shattered Perfection

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We were perfect.

How I could laugh at the irony now. Perfect, that stupid seven letter word. It's something that we all have strived for at one point, either with grades, friends, marriages, children, even trying to do the impossible, have a perfect life.

I can be the first to tell you, that it's **_never_** going to happen.

We, I suppose we _look_ like the picture perfect family. He is the stoic, handsome, yet mysterious husband, and I'm the sweet, caring, devoted, lovely wife. The two of us seem to fit, yet we don't, in fact we haven't for awhile.

You would never know that though, not with they way we both are. He and I are very good actors, sometimes so good, I think we deserve a bloody award, but you don't get awards for living life, even if you are pretending.

He thinks I don't know. He thinks that I'm some blind, ignorant woman who just overlooks her husband's "promiscuous" activities, but I'm not like that. I have always known.

In the beginning, I used to ask myself why, crying over him, spending hours wishing he didn't do what he did. It was like every time he came home, a small piece of what was left of my already-shattered heart broke away. Sometimes I wish he'd never come home.

Now I don't even cry, much less question myself. It's happened too much, and so much over the years, that it doesn't even effect me anymore. I've just become numb; I feel nothing.

I sometimes wonder which is worse, crying for hours on end, feeling the pain, or being numb, not feeling a damn thing. Both have their pros and cons, but what I feel isn't really up to me, now is it? I mean, you don't chose who you fall in love with.

The children are starting to take notice. Maria, still too small to understand, just knows her Mum and Dad don't sleep in the same room, and that Daddy is gone a lot of the day, but James, James is a very different story.

He is exceptionally bright for his age. I suppose all that time he has spent at Harry and Hermione's house has done him some good. James knows exactly what's been going on now, for the last few years. I don't even remember when it started. Must be two, three years? Four even?

He came into my room one night, sat on the edge of my bed. I set aside my Quidditch magazine, I still love the sport, even now. James watched me for a second, the expression on his face reminding me of his father, then he opened his mouth and asked me a question I never thought I'd ever hear uttered from his mouth.

"Why do you stay Mum?"

I smiled at him, telling him to come closer. I wrapped my arms around my son's shoulders, playing with his hair. I answered him.

"Because I chose too, James. In some sort of twisted way, I suppose I still love the bastard."

James looked up at me, disbelief etched across his face. "How?"

"How what James?"

"How could you love him so much?" he asked, standing up. He eyes were blazing.

Sighing, I had replied, "I just do. You will understand when you are older James. You will fall in love, and it will be the greatest feeling in the world."

After a few moments, he nodded solemnly, and exited my room. I could tell that he was trying to understand.

I didn't lie either, when I said what I said. I still love him, probably always have, and always will. At one time, he was everything to me, now I do not know what he is. Things have changed since we first got married.

I remember when we were happy. Those memories seem almost a lifetime ago. Maybe marrying right out of school was too young, but at the time we didn't care. We were in love.

If I was still bitter, I suppose I say something like, so much for that, but I can't deny it. That was our reason. Looking up, I smile as my eyes land on a picture.

To any other person, there wouldn't be anything special about it, just another photo of a family, husband wife, and kids, but to me, it is a reminder of a time when things where better.

It was the last photo we ever took as a "real" family, before everything started. Draco and I had decided to take the children to Italy one summer. Maria, only being an infant at the time, hardly remembers it.

Picking it up, I trace our faces. James was so young then, so innocent. He was outgoing then, loud, and very much his father's son, now James isn't any more. He has become reserved, and soft-spoken. It's almost like he felt the need to grow up faster, and several times a day, I wish he had never developed that need in the first place.

Shaking my head, I put the frame down, sighing softly as I did so. At least my Maria still acts like innocent and carefree. It is comforting to a degree, because I know eventually she'll learn about how cruel the world can actually be, but until then, she can still be naïve.

Loud voices are coming from down the hall, and automatically, I know it's James and Draco. They have been fighting more frequently nowadays. I suppose in some ways it is my fault. James probably thinks he has to defend me, since he believes I refuse to do it myself.

I hear a crash coming from the same area as the voices, and the entire demeanor of the house changes. I can feel it. Draco would never hurt James, but nothing has ever been broken before either. Exiting my room, I peak into Maria's room, making sure she is still sound asleep in her bed, then rush down to Draco's study, where I know they.

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Author's Note - Alright so how was the second part? Next chapter will be the last. In case you didn't know, this is told in Ginny's point of view. Hope you all are enjoying this, I know it's slightly different from the other various things I have written. Please review and let me know your thoughts.

Thanks to my reviewers:

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Jelli-baby, **Rionarayne** - thank you, and I'm glad you liked the first part, **Anna** - cliff hangers make the story more interesting, hehe, **jack75** - hope I didn't leave you hanging too long, **Carmleinak, bitterosemary**, and **soul release**,


	3. Part III :: Silent Results

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Strangers

Summary: Their marriage is not what it once was. He is confused, while she is lost.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter.

Part III :: Silent Results

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James hates it. He hates the fact that his father and mother are still married, he hates the fact that his mother isn't happy, but most of all, he hates they way his father seems to just tune out how his mother must be feeling.

When he was a little boy, all he ever wanted to do, was be his father. He wanted to be successful, he wanted to have a wife, but most of all, he wanted to be happy. Sometimes he would look back on those times when his family life was wonderful, and wonder what had gone wrong.

Shaking his head, he walked silently down the hall, towards his father's study. He knew that his mother would never say anything about the particular subject that James wanted to talk about, but James knew he had to say something. He couldn't stand how much it was hurting his mother, or how much he was beginning to resent his father.

Opening the door, he gazed immediately went to his father. Inhaling sharply, he walked forward, and sat himself across from him. Hardening his face, James waited expectantly.

After a few minutes of silence, Draco spoke. "Is there any thing you need?" he asked, folding his hands onto the top of his desk.

James eyed his father impassively, for a few more moments, before replying, "Why?"

Draco looked confused for a second, then glanced at his son curiously. "What do you mean why?" he inquired.

"I want to know why you do it," James restated briefly.

Draco closed his eyes, then he removed his glasses, setting them down on his desk. Standing up, he paced across the floor, his hands behind his back. Stopping, he looked at his son. "That has nothing to do with you," he answered, his voice tight.

"It has everything to do with me," James countered, anger laced in his tone.

"That is strictly between your mother and I," Draco declared dismissingly.

James glared at him. "You don't know, do you? You really can't see it, can you?" he stated darkly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at his son. "Care to explain yourself?" he requested emotionlessly.

Turning away from his father's penetrating gaze, James whispered, "I asked her once, why she stayed," then turning back around to face Draco, continued, "I always thought she was insane for staying with you for so long, and I didn't understand it. So I asked her why she stayed one night. Do you want to know what she told me, what her answer was?"

Draco tilted his head. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what his wife had said, but fortunately, or unfortunately for him, James made the choice for him.

"She said it was because she chose too, because she still loves you," James said, malice dripping from every word, "I asked her how she could, and she told me I'd understand when I was older. To be completely honest with you _Dad_, if all love is like that, then I don't want to fall in love. I don't want the pain Mum has. She thinks she can hide it, and she probably does, but I can see it. I want to know how you live with yourself, knowing you put her though so much. She doesn't deserve it, and she deserves much better. I want to know why you do it, why she's not enough for you, why _we_ aren't enough for you!"

Draco watched as his son's eyes blazed angrily. He stayed silent, letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it, unsure of what to say.

James was tried of waiting. Spying a picture frame on his father's desk, he picked it up. It was the same photo his mother had placed in her room. Full of fury, he threw it across the room, closing his eyes, as he heard a satisfying smash, as the glass shattered all over the floor.

Draco met his son's eyes, and the tension was so thick in the room, you could have cut it with a chainsaw. James went to say something, mostly to continue his rant, when the door to the study opened, and Ginny walked into the room.

James closed his mouth, and looked guiltily down at the floor. Draco gazed at his wife for a brief moment, then turned his sights on everything else in the room but her.

Ginny looked from her husband to her son, confusion written all over her pretty face. Noting the broken picture frame, she went over to pick it up. Staring at the picture, Ginny blinked, trying to make sense of what happened.

"Reparo," she muttered quietly. Setting it back in it's original place upon the self, she rounded on James. "I think you should go to bed, James dear," she stated, her hands folding themselves behind her back.

James sighed, and kissed his mother on the cheek before exiting the room, not sparing his father another glance.

Ginny watched her husband's profile for a few moments. His back was to her, his head held up high. Feeling her gaze on his back, Draco spun around, and their eyes locked.

For the first time in years, everything that had been unspoken between them came pouring out in their eyes. Ginny shut her eyes tight, and walked towards the door. Opening it, she paused, feeling his eyes on her, then left the room.

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It wouldn't be until a little later in the night, that they would both feel the effects the years had had on them. Ginny sat quietly in the living room, reading a romance novel by the fire. Draco walked in, and watched his wife.

She held a subtle beauty outlined by the firelight. Her eyes were the window to her soul, so to speak, expressing her emotions. This was about as unguarded as he had seen her in years.

Settling himself across from her, in one of the armchairs, he picked up one of the other books lying on the table. She hadn't looked up once.

Ginny knew he was there however. She knew from the moment he walked in. Staring at him from over the top of her book, she studied him again. It had become one of her habits. He looked the part of a fallen angel. An evil innocence, if you will.

Sighing, she turned the page, bringing her eyes back to the book.

They were in love once, such a powerful force, that nothing else seemed to matter but them. It filled them to the point of euphoria, but ended up destroying them in their own ways.

They had been married for more than fifteen years, yet they were strangers to themselves, as well as each other. There is no such thing as a fairy tale ending for them. There's no epiphanies, or realizations, there's just memories of what was, and thoughts of what could have been.

Ginny set her book down, and stood up. Smoothing down her dress, she spared her husband one last glance. Shaking her head, she headed into the hall, turning to go to her room, unaware of a set of beautiful, yet sad eyes following her every movement.

More importantly, for them, there is just an end.

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Author's Note - I know, I know, where's the happy ending? Well, when I started this, I didn't see one. Hope you enjoyed this short fic, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think, reviews would be lovely, and very much appreciated.

Thanks to my reviewers:

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Lil Bazza - I didn't want to give it a happy ending, to me, it just didn't seem to fit.

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Mo the Death eater - thank you for the compliments.

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love

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Anna - of course, lol, I'm happy you like it, I just hope your not too disappointed with the end.

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lena - I couldn't make it happy, it didn't seem to fit, hope you aren't too upset.

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bitterosemary

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baby styles - thank you

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Rachel


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